Boy, Look at You, Looking at Me
by LittleSixx
Summary: Dean Thomas trips over a rack of broomsticks and lands a date with Blaise Zabini.
1. Chapter 1: Speed and Fingers

_A/N: This is written as a prequel to "Are You My Mother," but both fics can be enjoyed separately. This fic will have four chapters: two from Dean's POV and two from Blaise's POV._

* * *

When he was little, Dean Thomas wanted to be a professional football player. He didn't have a lot of time to think about his future during the war, and afterward he wanted to do something quiet. Perhaps not quiet, but something that didn't involve people lobbing jinxes at him or large amounts of paperwork. He owned a Quidditch supply store in East London, but by 2006 life had become almost too quiet.

It was rare for anyone to enter the store on Saturday morning, much less on a freezing Saturday in early February. When Dean heard the door open and close, he came out from the workshop to see the most beautiful man on the planet had walked into the store. The visitor wore a slate grey trench coat over dark jeans and a lilac sweater. He could hardly look more out of place in a sporting store, but he would stand out anywhere with the way he held himself.

The man scanned the walls of the store like he was looking for something specific, and Dean felt his feet move but didn't quite remember telling them to do so. Lucy was the only staffer in, and she greeted him with the standard protocol.

"Good morning, sir! Welcome to Ignisphera where we sell the finest quality Quidditch supplies in—"

"Lucy! I see we have a customer," Dean shouted, his pace a bit quicker than could have been considered normal. Dean recognized that face, no one could forget that face, and knew they were in the same year at school. The man's name was on the tip of his tongue, he just couldn't quite remember it.

"Dean Thomas," he arrived and held out his hand. "I own the store."

"Blaise Zabini," the customer replied, shaking Dean's hand. He smiled and Dean could have kicked himself.

 _That's right, Malfoy's friend!_

"Lucy, I'll take care of Zabini here," Dean said, still holding onto Blaise's hand. "Go assist one of the other customers."

"It's nine in the morning, he is our only customer," Lucy replied.

"Take your lunch break, then."

"It's nine in the morning!" Lucy repeated.

"Then take a breakfast break!" Dean insisted. He ran his thumb over Blaise's knuckles before dropping their handshake and, if the smirk on Zabini's face was any indication, Dean knew his face had started to pink. "It really is the most important meal of the day."

Lucy looked between the two of them, patted Dean on the shoulder and said, "Good luck, boss."

Dean cringed as she meandered toward the cashier counter. He awkwardly crossed his arms in front of his chest and smiled down at the floor before schooling his face into a more professional expression.

 _Merlin's beard, even his shoes are pretty._

"Is there something I can help you find?" Dean asked, his voice cracking on the final word.

Blaise Zabini looked at him with amusement. He didn't say anything for a few moments, so Dean took the opportunity to really look at him. He had amber eyes and a dimple on the underside of his bottom lip, looking like some kind of Siren. Something about him felt like autumn; nothing warm and nothing cold, just something peaceful.

"Gloves," Blaise finally said. "The Seeker for the Quafflepunchers is a good client and—"

"You need gloves for Lucien Benoit?!" Dean exclaimed. "You should have started with that! I made his practice broom, you know. Follow me."

As Dean led him toward the rack of gloves at the back of the shop Blaise asked, "You made a broom for him?"

"Well someone had to."

"Impressive," Blaise observed.

"Oh! You, um, you think so? Thanks—Oh, no!" Dean tripped over a rack of broomsticks. Blaise laughed and asked,

"Are you this flustered by all your customers, or am I special?"

 _Holy shit, is he flirting with me? Or is he making fun of me? I can't tell, so maybe both?_

"I'm flustered by everyone who comes in here at nine o'clock in the morning," Dean answered.

"Happen often, does it?"

"Just you," Dean admitted.

"Good," Blaise replied, and Dean felt his face go red. He was definitely blushing and his heart raced faster than any broom he ever made could hope to. By the time they approached the apparel section of the shop, Dean had nearly lost his grip on the English language. Individual glove samples were laid out in a series of drawers with transparent glass tops.

 _Right, good, keep it professional. I can do this._

"I do not know much about Quidditch, so I defer to your expertise," Blaise said.

"I know what you need," Dean replied low in his throat. Blaise raised an eyebrow at the double entendre and shifted a bit closer to him. Dean shivered, shook his head, and counted to five.

 _Keep it together, Dean, keep it together. He's just flirting, just playing you, at least make the sale. Keep it professional. I can do this._

"This top row here, these are batting gloves made with cabretta leather on the palms which we primarily suggest for Beaters because it's the toughest moldable leather. It assists with the grip on both the bat and the broom handle. We pre-curve the fingers for a more natural fit and I can make them in any design, any colour for any team."

He closed that drawer and pulled out the second.

"Now, these I am particularly proud of. My newest design, I've only had Chasers try it out, but anyone could benefit from them. The palm is actually goatskin which isn't as tough but it's more breathable. Good for Chasers since they're sweating, going about at such high speeds. It has four-way stretch in the fabric, so it moves with the hand but it also has a cooling function which comes in handy during long matches."

Blaise hummed his approval, so Dean closed that drawer and pulled out the third.

"Now these are what I believe you are looking for. Everything about the Seeker comes down to two things: speed and fingers."

"Speed and fingers, you say?" Blaise whispered. Dean found himself pausing to think of unpleasant things (Blast-ended Skrewts, Professor Snape, etc.) because _that voice_ was a problem that went straight to his nether region. Dean eventually continued,

"If both Seekers in a match are diving for a Snitch, it all comes down to whose fingers have the most room, the best reach. These gloves are made of cabretta leather, but in two parts: one extending from the tip of the thumb all the way down the hand to allow for movement and dexterity. Fingerless, obviously, because Snitches have flesh memories and you don't want fabric to be the reason the Snitch is able to sneak away. Again, I can make it in any colour with any logo, name, anything …"

He trailed off because Blaise was looking at him with that amused expression again. Dean did not like the feeling of being on the wrong end of a joke so he asked, "What?!" rather petulantly.

"I own Twilfitt and Tattings," Blaise answered. "Fabric is my business and it has been awhile since anyone has taught me something about it." He shrugged, "I am impressed. You make these?"

"Well, yes. Quality Quidditch Supplies was the only store in England and they aren't good enough to compete internationally. Victor Krum would never buy from them, neither would any star Seeker or Beater for that matter. I taught myself to make broomsticks, to make gloves, and I contract out the production of Snitches and the like. Someone had to level up on that mediocrity."

"And that someone was you?" Blaise asked, curious. He tapped his fingers on the drawer and Dean recalled how nicely they fit in his hand earlier.

"All my friends went into the Ministry after school or started families, but that never really worked for me. I spent so much time on the run for my life, it felt like maybe I deserved to do what I wanted. This is it. This is something I can do and still be around to help my family. I certainly wasn't going to be an Auror or do whatever the hell Hermione's up to at St. Mungo's."

"And your heart said Quidditch?" Blaise asked. "Interesting."

"Is it?"

"Yes."

Dean believed him. Blaise was looking at him openly; he wasn't making fun, he was serious.

"Well now I'm looking at expanding into custom robes, making them more aerodynamic and the like."

"I could help you with that, if you like," Blaise cut him off. "After all, I own a clothing shop."

"Are you serious?" Dean asked. Blaise nodded and he shouted, "Yes! That would be amazing! How the hell could I possibly repay you?"

"Dinner," Blaise answered.

 _What?_

Apparently Dean stood there staring at Blaise for a few moments too long because Blaise repeated,

"Dinner, with me."

"A business dinner?"

"No," Blaise shook his head and smiled. "Not a business dinner."

"Oh," was all Dean could think to reply. Blaise got a strange look on his face, like he wasn't used to waiting so long for an answer.

"Are you asking me on a date?" Dean clarified.

"I was, yes, but I was trying to be delicate about it," Blaise answered. "I like you and I will take three pairs of those Seeker gloves. As for the colour, the Quafflepuncher robes are that rather garish shade of pink, so something to match it will be appropriate. I trust your expertise on the rest."

"Three pairs?!" Dean asked. "You know that's thirty Galleons."

"Anything to remain in Lucien's good graces. He and his friends account for a quarter of my business and I heard you are the best."

"You heard right," Dean said, confident.

"Excellent!" Blaise smiled.

 _Oh, God, that smile is going to be the death of me. Just keep smiling at me like that until I melt into a fucking puddle on the floor._

"Dinner on Tuesday is good, yeah? I will owl you the address. I have to be on my way, business to attend to, but I look forward to seeing you again."

Dean believed him, but something about Tuesday set off alarm bells in his head.

 _Oh, shit._

"Zabini! Zabini!" Dean shouted. "Blaise!"

Blaise turned around just as he reached the door.

"Yes?"

"Tuesday is Valentine's Day!"

"I know," Blaise smiled and Disapparated once he left the shop.

Lucy arrived at his side and patted him on the back.

"Well done, boss. I must admit, I didn't think you could pull it off, but you have a date with one of the richest men in Wizarding Britain."

"Richest?" Dean asked. "He owns one clothing store in Diagon Alley."

"And a restaurant here in London and one in Modena and he's running the Malfoy estate. Honestly, Dean, don't you read the papers?"

"No," he admitted.

"Well, my advice? Low expectations. Zabini hasn't been in a relationship since … Well, ever, if _Witch Weekly_ and _Gentlemen's Quarterly_ are to be believed."

 **.oOo.**

The Potter house in Godric's Hollow was a maze of toys and small children, so Dean felt right at home. James was playing with some blocks so Dean scooped him up and said,

"Hey, Jay! Where's your mum?"

"Here!" Ginny said from behind him. Dean whirled around and James giggled, suddenly a little dizzy. He would look exactly like his father when he got older, Dean knew. Though he had a soft heart for Al, who was very shy.

"Ginny!" Dean greeted her with a kiss on the cheek and, as he'd always done with her, dove in headfirst. "I have a date and I'm not sure what to do about it."

"Well, most people would go on the date," she replied. Ginny grabbed a bottle of water and sat on one of the chairs in the living area. It appeared she'd just returned from training, getting in shape for her final season with the Holyhead Harpies. She looked well. Quidditch and family … Dean envied her just a bit, but she and Potter deserved this life. They earned it.

"Yeah, well, he showed up in the shop and I fell all over myself trying to impress him. Then he asked me out."

"You've never had trouble dating men before," Ginny said, confused. "What's the problem with this one?"

"I think I might really like him. Not the my-family-doesn't-need-to-know sort of like him, Ginny. I could see myself with this one. He's gorgeous, but he was so sure of himself. Everyone else I've ever dated has been so clandestine about it, or awkward or nervous. There was something about him that was just comfortable. So I have a Valentine's date with Blaise Zabini and I'm freaking out."

Ginny held up a hand to silence him.

"Blaise Zabini?! Dean, you should have led with that!" She had a stern look on her face and Dean bounced Jay up and down, more to soothe himself than it was for Jay. Ginny sighed and looked at Dean with eyes full of pity.

"Blaise is a decent person, a decent friend to Harry even, but he is not a decent boyfriend."

"Oh," was all Dean could think to say. His heart fell to his stomach and he could feel his hope evaporating.

"I dunno if he's ever had a real boyfriend," Ginny continued "Since we've known him, all the men he calls 'boyfriends' are gone within the week. Harry might know better than me, but I think he and Malfoy were together once."

Dean scrunched his nose in disgust.

"He was with Malfoy?! What the hell have I gotten myself into?"

Jay's eyes widened and he covered his mouth in shock.

"You said a bad word!"

Ginny laughed and took him from Dean's arms so he could return to his blocks. She sighed and said,

"Dean, you are one of my best friends and I love you. I know how attractive Blaise is, but he's the sort of man who tends to run from commitment. I heard most of this through Harry, but you know about his mum, yeah?"

"Married eight times, all husbands dead under suspicious circumstances. I assume his life wasn't exactly pleasant outside Hogwarts."

"Exactly! Blaise doesn't know a lot about love. I think he needs a person like you to show him what it means, but he'd push you away before you get far enough to matter."

"So I should cancel?" Dean asked, disappointed.

"No!" Ginny replied. "Do what you want to do. I've never met a person who doesn't like you, Dean, so I know Blaise wants you. I also know you're going to like him. He's … magnetic. I just worry that you will be heartbroken if this doesn't end how you want it to."

Dean nervously tapped the toe of his trainer against the floor. He took a deep breath and said,

"Ginny, I have always trusted your judgement and you've never been wrong. You know Blaise and you know me, like you said, so I need you to be completely honest with me. Do you think he could make me happy?"

Ginny looked at him for awhile, shot a glance at Jay, and nodded.

"Yeah, I think he could."


	2. Chapter 2: The First Date

Twilfitt and Tattings was the closest thing Blaise had to a home in England. Sure, he'd been running the Malfoy estate for nearly a year, but the manor was Draco's place. His own apartment in London was simple, sparsely furnished, and he spent as little time in it as possible. He preferred T&T because at least he could be around the clothes and chatter.

"You are exceptionally cheery this morning," Romilda observed as Blaise walked into the store.

"I have a date," Blaise replied. He found it nearly impossible to keep from smiling.

"How surprising," Romilda quipped without looking up from the register. "You have a date. Just like every other day on the calendar."

"We are having dinner on Tuesday."

Romilda's hands stilled like she'd been Stunned. She looked up at Blaise and asked,

"Someone asked you out for Valentine's dinner and you said yes?!"

"I asked him and he said yes," Blaise corrected her. Predictably, Romilda begged for more information.

"What's his name? Is he handsome? How did you meet? Where—"

"I was in his shop a couple hours ago," Blaise cut her off. "I am not sure I would call him handsome, but … I think he could be?"

He thought about it for a moment. Dean was half-a-head taller than him, the sort of tall that normally makes people stoop. Dean didn't bend, though, not once while they were talking. He was content with himself, happy, and Blaise couldn't remember ever being around that sort of person.

Dean's hair was a mess of curls, and he hadn't bothered to brush it after his morning shower. He looked a bit tired and had a smudge of something on his forehead, like he went to wipe his brow and forgot there was a broom paste on his hand. He had a friendly face, nice eyes, and everything about him was open and inviting. Dean wasn't exceptionally good-looking, but he wasn't plain either. Could certainly do with a shave and Blaise had barely controlled his urge to run his fingers through Dean's hair to just _fix it_.

"Blaise, you aren't going to date him just to give him a makeover, are you? Because that would be so wrong and I'm better at it than you are."

Blaise laughed.

"You are, indeed. But he was wearing some sports t-shirt over a sweatshirt and he looked kind of cute, like it suited him. If he dressed like me he would feel ridiculous."

Romilda looked at him rather curiously, then smiled softly.

"What's his name?"

"Dean," Blaise answered. "Dean Thomas."

Romilda nodded in recognition.

"I never would have considered it, but now … I like it," she said. She took his hand and said, "I do, I love it, I think it's great and you should date him. For real this time! Just this once, don't go into it thinking it's going to end."

"It is just temporary, but I think it will be nice while it lasts."

Romilda threw her hands up in the air.

"You are the best boss on the planet. I love you, you're a good friend, but you are a shitty boyfriend, Blaise Zabini!" she shouted. One of the customers awkwardly peered at them over a rack of cloaks, but Romilda carried on.

"We both know the reason you don't feel at home in England and why you want to move back to Modena is because you don't have someone keeping you here. Dean is a good person. I don't know him, but I know people who do and he sounds like the kind of person you fight for, Blaise. He is the person you look at and say, 'I get it now.' You date attractive men all the time and they leave you because you keep them at such a distance they never have a chance to get to know you."

"Romi," Blaise whispered, "I am not going to be what my mother was. She used romance for money, and I refuse to do that. Only … I never learned to do anything else, either. I cannot do anything but casual because I never learned."

"But Draco—"

"Draco does not count!" Blaise hissed. "Can we not discuss Draco, please?"

Romilda pointed at him and said, "Exactly! You never want to talk about him because he is the one who got closest. Do not punish Dean Thomas because you and Draco didn't work. This one will, Blaise. I know it."

 **.oOo.**

Blaise Zabini did not get nervous. Nerves were for people who weren't confident in themselves, and that was not Blaise. Definitely not. So why did it feel like there were a dozen Cornish Pixies in his stomach? He rationalized it was because they were dining at a restaurant he didn't own.

 _I'm not_ that _pretentious._

Except, he always had been. First dates always happened at his restaurants in London. He never really cared about first impressions with the men he dated. It was a simple process: come to my restaurant, eat my food, and then we'll go home together. Some men were interesting, some weren't, but in the end they were all the same: not Dean Thomas.

Seven o'clock came and Dean hadn't arrived.

 _What if I read him all wrong and he is not into men? Or perhaps it was me? Did I come onto him too smooth? They normally like that. Someone must have told him my relationships never last and he is looking for something more. Yeah, that one, it has to be._

There was a loud "Crack!" of Apparition and suddenly Dean Thomas stood in front of Blaise, whose chest tightened up at the sight. Dean had made an effort and it made all the difference. His coat was unbuttoned, so Blaise could see that his earlier assessment was wrong. Dean Thomas could wear anything and not feel ridiculous. He was wearing this sort of teal blue blazer over a black button-down made of rather thin fabric. But, not to be too formal, Dean was in a maroon bowtie patterned with little grey Snitches, complemented by a grey pocket square.

By the time Blaise finished his assessment, Dean had caught his breath and leaned in to kiss Blaise on the cheek. Suddenly, the dozen pixies in his stomach felt like a hundred. Dean opened the door to Squill and Thyme and said,

"After you."

Blaise was quite familiar with this restaurant; he found it best to do Malfoy business away from his own properties. He had enough trouble untangling the rest of his life from Draco, the least he could do was keep their fortunes separate. So when the host looked up she immediately looked back down at the reservation book to scan for _Zabini_.

"Table for two?" she asked before looking up again and shouting, "Dean Thomas!"

She scurried around the host stand to hug Dean. He shouted, "Bella!" and picked her several centimetres off the ground as he returned the hug with a huge smile on his face. In all the times he'd dined at the restaurant, it never occurred to Blaise that the host had a name.

"What are you doing here?!" she asked once her feet were back on solid ground.

"I have a date," he answered. The host, _Bella_ , turned to glare at Blaise.

"Table for two?" she asked.

"Yes," Blaise confirmed. The look she shot him should have killed him, so Dean intervened.

"Blaise, this is Isabella Tintwistle. She was a year above us in school and can still kick anyone's arse in Skittles. Bella, this is Blaise, but I take it you two already know each other?"

"I know plenty," Bella snapped.

"Well, I don't," Dean said cheerfully. "So if you could have someone take our coats, could we be seated? I kept him waiting a bit and I don't want to be even more uncouth, this being our first date and all."

 _How is he so friendly?! He diffused that conversation so well … I could never do that. What if Romilda is right and this is it? Is this the one relationship that can work? Oh, Merlin, I'm gonna vomit._

Bella shot Blaise one last glare and pointed to Dean.

"Be careful with this one," she demanded. "I like him."

Even Dean didn't know what to say after that, so they were shown to their table in awkward silence. He walked around Blaise's side and deftly pulled out the chair before taking his own seat. Blaise kept his face impassive, but his heartbeat was dizzying. He had no idea what he ordered to drink, but Dean took one look at the menu and laughed.

"This is bloody fantastic! Wingardium Levio-Salmon? MuffliaTomato Soup? EpisKey Lime Pie? Merlin's arse, I needed a good laugh today."

"Careful, Merlin's arse is probably on the menu," Blaise quipped. Dean Thomas laughed and it was better than any Relaxation Draught. Relief flowed through him as though he was sitting down in a warm bath. In that moment Blasé knew he wanted Dean to like him. Perhaps it wouldn't last, but Blaise would not push Dean away, either.

Humor was one of the reasons Blaise tolerated Squill and Thyme, because he took his own restaurants much too seriously. Their food was alright, definitely superior to most wizarding restaurants, but the atmosphere was loose. Formal, yes, but loose.

The jovial banter wasn't meant to last.

"Everyone I know seems to know about you, but I don't," Dean said. Blaise tensed up again and frowned.

"I like that about you."

"Well I don't," Dean insisted. "You come into my shop, ask me out to Valentine's, and I know nothing about you other than what I read in the old copies of _Wizards Quarterly_ I pilfered off Seamus. Which isn't much, so what should I know about you?"

"What do I want you to know or what should you know?" Blaise asked.

"I think that if they're not the same thing, then we already have a problem," Dean replied.

Blaise took a deep breath. He had hoped to get through some of the meal before diving into this. But Dean was right. Blaise knew when he took Dean home that night it would feel much better to have him without this secret between them. Blaise wanted him to know, but he was so practiced at dodging the question that he wasn't quite sure how to answer it.

"I know the article you found. However, I think this will be much easier if you just ask what you want to know."

"Did you date Malfoy?"

Blaise sighed heavily and let his head fall into his hands. Dean squirmed a bit and asked,

"I take it this is a fairly typical first date question for you?"

"Yes, but for the first time I want to give the honest answer," Blaise replied. "So, yes, four years ago Draco Malfoy was my boyfriend"

"I don't … I don't judge you for it at all; I don't think Malfoy is the racist arsehole he used to be, either. It just seems like you hate talking about it so much, like you're running away from it and I want to know why. Bella isn't the only person to have warned me off you, but I don't care about any of that as long as you are honest with me. So why are you running from your history with Malfoy?"

Their appetizer arrived and Blaise took a moment to gather his thoughts.

 _How do I say this? How do I tell him he is right but also so very incredibly wrong?_

"I never really believed in romance. I watched my mother entice, marry, and murder enough men to know the notion of romance only makes you blind. I did not spend my time running from Draco, I spent my time running from my mother. I thought if I was meant to love anyone it was Draco Malfoy. That article says it was his father who came between us, but do not believe that drivel. I would never let something as silly as Lucius Malfoy's pride get in the way of what I want, but he did live long enough to see our relationship end. Foul bastard probably clung to life for that alone.

"Draco is all kinds of chaos," Blaise said fondly, "and there is no reprieve. He is a whirlwind of pride and regret that I never learned to handle. It is wonderful when it is good and it is terrible when it is bad. Draco needs the sort of person who can handle the ups and the downs, and that person is not me. We simply do not fit together."

 _And he preferred to top._

Dean choked on his water and his eyes looked like they were nearly about to pop out of his head.

"Oh, Merlin, I said that out loud, didn't I?" Blaise asked.

Dean nodded and groaned, "Oh, God, images of Malfoy I did not need in my head, Blaise. If I didn't want to remember this date so badly, I'd have you Obliviate me."

"Well it is not a position I would ever put myself in again," Blaise said.

"Being Draco's boyfriend or being on the underside of things?"

"Both."

"Good," Dean replied, and it seemed the admission may have been involuntary because he awkwardly cleared his throat and dug into the appetizer. Blaise popped a fork in after him and tasted it.

 _Not bad._

"This is so good!" Dean exclaimed.

"I make better," Blaise shrugged.

"Do not tell me you cook, too," Dean begged.

"Of course I cook!" Blaise said, affronted.

"So you own restaurants, you cook, you own a clothing store, and you look like," Dean waved his hand up and down to indicate Blaise's general appearance, "that. You could have just about any man you want, I imagine, so how the hell have you ended up here with me?"

"I like you …" Blaise said. Dean shook his head like that wasn't the answer he wanted.

"Not a good enough answer," he confirmed before digging into the appetizer again.

"Then let me finish!" Blaise huffed. "I like you because you tripped over a rack of broomsticks trying to flirt with me. I like that you saw something you wanted to do, learned to do it, and did it. And I knew that I was going to ask you out as soon as you tried to lecture me on fabrics."

"I wasn't lecturing—"

"It was cute," Blaise cut him off. "You are absolutely fucking adorable and I like being around you. Dates for me are more like chores with a reward at the end, but I was just excited to talk to you. I never really had that, so of course I wanted to go out with you."

"Now, that is an answer I like," Dean smiled.

The rest of dinner was excellent. Dean Thomas was funny, sweet, and this was the best date Blaise had ever been on. He liked that Dean left Draco out of the conversation, that secret having nothing to do with how they would progress forward. Somewhere between Dean laughing at his own stupid joke and his eyebrows knitting together as he browsed the dessert menu, Blaise realized Romilda was right. He wanted this one to work, and he wanted it badly.

Blaise stood up from his chair, spun it around so the back was to his front, and moved to the side of the table immediately to Dean's left. The move left Dean a little stunned, like he wasn't prepared for such close physical proximity just yet. Blaise leaned forward and grabbed the edge of Dean's bowtie.

"I love this," he said. Dean's eyes widened and he stopped breathing for a few seconds, so Blaise dropped his hand. He'd need to move slowly, then. "Where did you get it?"

"Um, I, um, have a friend …" Dean stuttered. He took a breath to compose himself and damn it, Blaise loved that he could get Dean this flustered without touching him. "I have a Muggle friend who does fabric printing. I'll send him a pattern and he makes it up for me. You met Lucy at the shop on Saturday, she graduated from Ilvermorny a couple years ago, and she makes the ties."

"She does good work," Blaise observed. "I may steal her from you."

"She might like that," Dean admitted. "Not a big fan of Quidditch, actually."

"A woman after my own heart," Blaise quipped.

"Well, in that case, maybe not," Dean replied. Blaise looked up at him and couldn't help but lean in to kiss him. Their lips were mere centimetres apart when he was interrupted by an awkward cough. Their waiter had returned.

"Would you gentlemen like some dessert?"

Dean ordered for them as Blaise fumed internally.

 _Dammit! I just want to touch him._

"I thought you were going to punch him there, for a moment," Dean chided. Blaise grit his teeth.

"I am not normally a patient person."

"But you are for me?" Dean asked. "Interesting."

"Tell me more about your shop," Blaise said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. If his mother could see him, she would have cursed him back to the twelfth century, but Blaise suddenly didn't care about formalities. He just wanted to hear Dean talk.

"Well, Lucien Benoit is a funny story. I started hosting Quidditch scrimmages on Sundays at a nearby pitch. I make breakfast for everyone while some of the amateur teams practice; I call it 'Quaffles and Waffles.' One day Lucien Benoit showed up with about a dozen friends to sit around, eat my dreadful pancakes, and scout some of the talent. Then I got an official sponsorship with Lucien, which gave Ginny the clout to get me a sponsorship with the Holyhead Harpies. Everything kind of blossomed from there."

"Quaffles and waffles," Blaise repeated. "Merlin's pants, you are so adorable."

"You might have mentioned that once or twice," Dean said, but he didn't sound happy about it.

"Do you not like that word? Adorable, I mean?" Blaise asked.

"It's kind of … Weird?" Dean said. "I feel like a puppy when you talk about me like that."

"You have no idea how difficult it is to find someone who looks at me the way you do," Blaise admitted. "I make you shy, and you are not like that with anyone else, as far as I know. You look at me like you cannot believe the universe conspired to bring me into your shop, like you cannot believe I would ever ask you out, and you look at me like you enjoy being around me.

"No one has ever looked at me like that before. Before you ask, no, Draco did not look at me like that. Draco always expected me to be there for him, but he rarely returned the favour. You, on the other hand, you seem like you will appreciate whatever I give you and goddamn it, Dean, I have never had that. I want it so badly, and when I say I find you adorable I mean I adore the way you look at me. Or I adore your enthusiasm or how honest you are or how damn nice you are. But if you want to think of yourself as a puppy, I would not mind having you on a leash and obeying my commands. Oh, dessert! That was fast."

Dessert was a five-layer chocolate cake, but it might as well have been a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans for all the attention Dean gave it. His mouth hung open for a couple seconds, so Blaise scooped some cake with his fork and took the opportunity to feed it to Dean. It looked like he had to concentrate to chew and swallow. Blaise sucked the fork clean and couldn't help but laugh at Dean's alarmed expression.

"That right there? That is exactly what I meant when I said adorable."

"Are you always this … blunt?" Dean asked, slightly hoarse.

"Yes," Blaise answered without hesitation. "Does it bother you?"

"It's certainly different."

"Oh, you date ones who have yet to come out," Blaise realized. Dean refused to look up from the cake and took a rather large bite. Blaise wondered what he could be missing, why Dean would feel so awkward, and it took a few moments for it to come to him. He cringed and dropped his fork.

"No! Tell me you are not one of them!" Dean's lack of response was all the confirmation he needed. "Oh my God, Dean! Oh my God!"

"I know," Dean sighed.

"I thought you were …" Blaise trailed off. Dean was so obviously interested back at the shop, and Lucy hadn't seemed at all surprised. Romilda hadn't seemed surprised Dean would go out with a man and neither had that Bella person. "You just let me take you out in front of everyone on Valentine's? I never would have done that if I had known. God, I am so sorry."

"Hey, no, don't be like that," Dean insisted. "Everyone in the wizarding world knows. I never hid it at school because I didn't need to. It's just that the Muggle world is different."

"Your family are Muggles."

"Yes, and they don't know," Dean revealed. "A couple of my mates do. We have football scrimmages once a week and everyone there knows, but that's all."

"So this is not a problem for you?" Blaise asked, worried. His concerns were alleviated when Dean shook his head.

"Absolutely not. I've had a wonderful time, and this cake is delicious."

"Do I need to … Do I need to tone it down for you?" Blaise asked.

"You would do that for me?" Dean asked, surprised.

"Of course," Blaise answered. "I never want to make you uncomfortable."

The waiter dropped off the check and Blaise grabbed it before Dean could move a finger. He started to protest but Blaise insisted and threw an excess of Galleons and Sickles onto the table as they stood to leave. Blaise was openly staring at Dean's arse when Dean asked,

"So when can I take you out for our second date?"

Blaise raised a confused eyebrow.

"We can discuss that after we are finished with this one."

Dean shifted awkwardly on his feet and moved toward the front of the restaurant to grab their coats. Isabella pulled Blaise aside and quickly whispered,

"Tell me right now, is he going to end up just the same as all the other men you traipse around London with?"

"Absolutely fucking not," Blaise replied. She appeared satisfied by that answer, or perhaps it was the lovestruck expression Blaise felt on his face. They split up quickly before Dean returned to hand Blaise his coat. Dean held the door open for him again and once they were outside Blaise asked,

"Are you comfortable with Sidealong?"

"Blaise, I really, really like you," Dean said. Blaise felt his heart fall past his stomach and land somewhere around his toes. "I just can't go home with you."

 _NO! No, no, no, what the hell did I do wrong?!_

"Did … Did I say something wrong?" Blaise asked. "I was joking about the leash, I promise. Well, mostly. Does my breath smell bad? Was it Draco? It was the Draco thing, wasn't it? Dammit. I knew not to answer the question!"

"Blaise!" Dean shouted, and that shut him up. "You did nothing wrong. Everything about this date was perfect and I like you a lot more than I have liked anyone in a very long time. I'm just nervous, alright? I don't want to disappoint you."

 _He's nervous?_

"Give me one more date. Just one more and I'll be ready."

 _I'd raid my Gringotts vault and make it rain Galleons if that is what you wanted from me. I would give you anything._

"One date, ten dates, as many as you need," Blaise heard himself promise. "And you could never disappoint me, Dean Thomas, of that I am certain."

Dean smiled and Blaise relaxed, pleased they had come to an arrangement. Next thing Blaise knew, Dean was cupping the back of his head and leaning down to press a tender kiss to his cheek. He lingered for a few moments and Blaise went totally pliant beneath his lips.

 _You will never disappoint me._

Dean pulled back and said, "I'll owl you the time and place for our next date. Try not to forget about me before then."

"Yeah," Blaise breathed. Dean Disapparated, leaving Blaise alone outside Squill and Thyme.

 _I am so afraid of this, of the second date that leads to a third date which leads to a boyfriend who lasts more than two weeks. I want it to be him. I want Dean Thomas to like me. I want Dean Thomas in my bed. Hell, I want Dean Thomas in my life however he wants to be there._

 _Oh no … I am going to fall in love with him._


	3. Chapter 3: Just This Once

Dean felt like an idiot.

He landed Blaise Zabini and then he left. Judging by the look on Blaise's face, no one had done that before. As though Dean hadn't spent half their date thinking of how nice it would feel to be pinned underneath him. Wasn't that the very reason he wore the so-thin-it's-nearly-see-through button-down?

"I'm nervous."

Dean wanted to scoop out whichever part of his brain thought that was a good idea. It was the worst possible time for honesty! The expression on Blaise's face when Dean told him no, it was raw. There was fear and confusion and sadness in that look. Dean wanted to kiss him and say to hell with it, let Blaise shag him right there in the street if it would make him happy.

But their evening had been so nice! Dean had wondered how someone as serious and buttoned-up as Blaise could be friends with, let alone date a melodramatic ponce like Draco Malfoy. Turned out that Zabini was a naughty bastard with emotional issues, not wholly unlike his best friend. But where Malfoy was wild, Blaise was eerily calm. He could process and compartmentalize, and that was why he never had a boyfriend: love can't be cordoned off.

When Lucy asked how it went, Dean really didn't know what to say. He settled on,

"I really like him."

Lucy smiled at him and said, "I'm happy for you, boss," and everything was normal.

Dean finished the last pair of Lucien's gloves and spent the rest of the day working on a broomstick. Or, well, pretending to work on the broom while his thoughts wandered to soft hands and well-polished shoes. He barreled out of the workshop and shouted,

'Lucy!"

"Boss man!" she shouted back. She frowned when Dean shuffled her away from Roger Davies. (He was in so often Dean had half a mind to charge him rent.)

"I don't know what to do for our second date. How long do I wait to owl him? You've read about him, what do you think he likes?"

"Well the first thing you need to do is breathe," Lucy replied.

 _Right._

"Good," she affirmed, "that's better. Am I speaking to you employee-to-boss or Lucy-to-Dean?"

"Lucy to Dean."

"Right, owl him whenever the hell you want. Do it right now, next week, if he gets antsy he will let you know. Do you know what you learn about Blaise Zabini in those magazines?" Dean shook his head and she said, "Absolutely fucking nothing."

"Really?" Dean asked skeptically.

"Really," Lucy confirmed. "Do you know what he likes? He likes you."

 _Well, I mean, he did say that._

"Blaise does the run-around-town thing all the time. Make it clear to him that you aren't part of that. You, Dean Thomas, are better than the other men he has been with and you should make that clear by taking him somewhere new. Somewhere that is out of his comfort zone to do something that you enjoy doing."

"That's bloody brilliant!" Dean exclaimed. "I've got it, yes! Oh, Merlin, he's going to hate it. I'm giving you a raise. And tomorrow off. And another week's vacation."

"Hell yes!" Lucy pumped her fist in the air and all was well.

 **.oOo.**

All was not well.

All was never well when Dean's mother was in his flat. She was sitting in his living area when he arrived home from work, nothing short of giddy as he prepared to owl Blaise about their second date. That message would have to wait.

His mother was nearing fifty and she had never really lost the maternity weight that came with having eight children. People said Dean was very much like his mother, very friendly and likable. After almost every bad day, his mother was there with a hug and some biscuits. This, though, this didn't feel like a good conversation. She had that mum look—the one that says both "I am so disappointed in you" and "I am going to try to talk you out of something."

"How are you, Dean?" she asked.

"Great, Mum. I actually have something I want to tell you."

 _Better to just do it, just get it out of the way._

"Ava told me," she said. Dean ought to have been angry that his sister told her about Blaise, but it was probably easier this way.

"You can't see this boy anymore."

"What do you mean I can't see him?" Dean asked. "We had one date! One really, really great date, Mum."

"I thought you were over this phase after you ended things with that Seamus boy."

"You thought so because you wanted to believe that!" Dean said, exasperated. "Seamus wasn't a one-off!"

"I just don't understand! You are into football and Quidditch, so athletic—"

"And I can't be into men if I like sports?!" Dean asked, incredulous.

"You know what I mean!"

"No, Mum, I don't! I don't understand why this is a big deal! I had a date with a man I really like. He's excellent, Mum, you would like him."

"Like hell, I would!" she replied.

The one thing Dean wanted out of life was to never have to go through this heartbreak again. Yet, here they were, repeating the worst moment of his life. Dean shook, rage tensing up his muscles, and he had the urge to hit something.

"Mum, I still love you and I love my sisters! You are family and nothing is more important than that."

"You failed to include your stepfather."

"Yeah, he forfeit the right to my affection a long time ago. I'm still running my shop, playing football, and keeping up with my responsibilities to you. I can do all that and still date men! I was going to tell you about him because I thought you deserved to know."

"You cannot tell your stepfather," his mother insisted. "You know what he'll say." Dean couldn't control the look of disgust on his face.

"Really?! You remember what he told me, don't you?"

Dean's mother stared at the floor and shrugged.

"It has been so long, I forget—"

"He called me a faggot, Mum." Dean allowed disdain to coat his words, tired of pretending it was okay.

"I am sure he would say it differently now, baby."

"He told me to get out of the house and go back to my 'fairy' friends. He demanded that I don't speak to you all again until I got my head and my dick on straight! That's not how you speak to another person!"

Dean's mother was at a loss for words, so she stood there with her arms crossed and huffed angrily.

"You might have forgotten, but I didn't," Dean said. "I forgave you for following his lead on this because I don't believe you hate the idea. You wish I wasn't like this just so you wouldn't have to deal with it."

"It's hard, Dean. I don't like that you are making me choose between you and your stepfather like this."

"God, Mum! I'm not making you choose, he is! You know what, tell him. Tell him 'Dean is still the grass fairy you always thought he was.'"

His mother started to cry and Dean didn't have the urge to go to her. He felt scared and alone. He wanted to run to Blaise and ask what to do, ask how it felt to be completely open about who he was and what he wanted. To know how it felt to be accepted by everyone considered family.

"If you do this, you won't be able to see your sisters anymore," his mother revealed.

Dean forgot to breathe.

"You wouldn't do that."

"He will."

"And you would let him?" Dean asked.

His mother nodded, and Dean couldn't hold the tears back anymore. She grabbed Dean's elbow in what was probably meant as a reassuring gesture, but came across as authoritative and harsh. He didn't want his mother in his space just then.

"He doesn't want someone like that in the family," she said.

"What about what you want?" Dean asked. He sniffled and wiped his nose with his shirtsleeve.

 _God, I feel so disgusting._

"He's my husband and my partner, baby. We make sacrifices."

Dean jerked his arm out of her grasp and walked toward the door.

"That is exactly what you're saying Blaise can never be for me! What you will never sacrifice for me!" he shouted "If I have to keep this part of myself hidden to remain part of your family, then fine, that's what I'll do. I will break it off with Blaise, but only for the kids. I can't believe you are putting your husband before me. I am your son!"

"Dean, I don't want to!"

"Then don't!" Dean insisted to no avail. When she didn't see reason, he opened the door and said, "I need you to leave now."

 **.oOo.**

Dean laid awake in his bed that night, unable to sleep. He felt numb as his rage and despair tried to battle it out for dominance. One date with Blaise had turned his world upside-down in both the best and worst ways. Writing that letter to Blaise was the hardest thing Dean ever had to do, and he'd spent weeks as a prisoner in the Malfoys' basement. He thought had cried all his tears before he finally caved and punched a hole in the wall.

 _I'll repair it in the morning._

Dean sat up at the sound of someone banging on his door. He pulled on a t-shirt and padded out to the foyer, mentally running through everyone who had his address. The banging didn't stop until Dean opened the door to reveal …

"Blaise?" he asked, certain this was a hallucination or a very lucid dream. He was a mess, his dreadlocks hung freely instead of up in their usual twist, and Dean was pretty sure Blaise's undershirt was on backward. He pushed past Dean and slammed the door behind him. He held the letter aloft and asked,

"What the hell is this?!"

 _I wish he wasn't here. This would be so much easier if he just stayed away like I asked him to._

When Dean didn't answer, Blaise read the letter aloud.

"Blaise,

"Our date was perfect and I wish we could have more intimate time together. I wonder how you can be so confident in who you are because I am not like that. Because of that failure, our time together must come to an end. My mother made it clear I must choose between you or my sisters, and nothing in this world is more important to me than my family.

"I hope you are able to find happiness with someone who can give you more. Know that I will always wonder what could have been between us, and I can feel my heart being torn in two as I write to you. Thank you for coming into the shop and making me smile more than I have in ages. I will miss you. -Dean"

Having his words read back to him like that was like a slap to the face.

"What the hell is this, Dean?!" Blaise shouted. "Is this a joke?! Are you looking for a way to let me down gently? Because this sure as fuck was not it!" Blaise crumpled up the parchment and threw it on the floor.

"Tell me to my face, Dean Thomas, what the hell happened?"

Dean blinked twice and spoke the only thought that came to mind.

"How did you get my address?"

"I very nearly beat it out of Harry Potter and his wife took pity on me. Now answer my question!"

Dean sighed. Blaise clearly wasn't going away until he got answers, and Dean could hardly blame him.

"My oldest sister, Ava, told my mother about our date," Dean revealed. "I think she assumed it was okay now. It's been over five years since I told them about Seamus, so we both hoped that my mother and stepfather had warmed to the idea. I am afraid it is very much the opposite."

"Dean," Blaise said. When Dean continued to stare at the floor, Blaise grabbed his shirt and pulled until Dean was forced to look at him. Blaise was livid, but with whom? Dean wasn't quite sure. "Tell me what the hell happened. You owe me that."

"The ultimatum: if we stay together I cannot visit my sisters anymore. I am out of their lives."

Blaise dropped his hold on Dean's shirt and took a stunned step backward.

"Because of me?"

"They, uh," Dean wondered if there was any way to phrase this so it wouldn't hurt. "They don't want someone like you, someone like us in the family."

"Oh," Blaise said. "They would rather make you hide this part of yourself away?"

"Yes," Dean answered. "And I'll do it because it's not easy to send seven kids to university. I am paying for Ava's school now and I'll do the same for Kinsley next year. Without me, they can't continue and I won't make their opportunities suffer because I need a good lay."

Blaise looked conflicted. He clenched his teeth and his breath came in short bursts like he was on the precipice of a breakdown. Dean wondered if this was how Blaise felt when it ended with Malfoy, because he just spent time reliving his own nightmare and the knowledge that he forced Blaise to do the same only doubled the pain.

"If that is what you want, I will leave. But may I say something before I go?"

Dean nodded, though he didn't want to hear it. There was nothing Blaise could say that would change his mind. It would only make the separation worse.

"If they loved you the way I understand a family should, they would accept us as we are. What do I know about family? Nothing other than what I see from my friends, but family appears to be about love and loyalty, and I want you to know that I would give those things to you if you would just let me."

 _I don't doubt it._

"But I have no right to tell you what to value. I have no right to say I am more important than your family, and I would never tell you such a thing. I like you, Dean. Yesterday was the best date I have ever had and I have yet to even kiss you. I will never try to make a choice for you, and I will leave. Not because I want to, but because it is what you chose for me to do."

Then Blaise stood on his toes and kissed Dean's cheek, allowing his lips to linger for several moments like he hoped Dean would turn ever-so-slightly and kiss him back. Dean wanted to. But life without his family flashed through his mind's eye; he saw his sisters growing up without him, and he couldn't do it.

Blaise's eyes were wet when he finally pulled back. He opened his mouth to say something but no words came out, so he turned and left.

It was grief, by the way, that won out in him. Dean collapsed on the floor in the doorway, slumped against the wall, and cried. He tugged his knees to his chest and allowed himself to feel the pain, to finally realize that he would never know the feel of Blaise's lips against his own. He would never get to live out the fantasy of being completely consumed by Blaise Zabini. There would be no more dates, no more laughs, and for what? So the next time Blaise was caught out with a man in London, Dean could drown in his own tears?

 _Family is about sacrifices, my sacrifices. Never anyone else's. Why can't I have what I want just this once?_

 **.oOo.**

Dean woke up the next morning in his bed, having dragged himself there sometime between two and four. He brushed his teeth and felt empty. His shower was two minutes long and he forgot to shampoo. He pulled on a half-decent sweater, trousers, trainers, and went to get his coat from the closet by the front door. Along the way, he nearly tripped over his discarded letter. Dean stared at the parchment for a few moments and grabbed his coat.

 _Just this once._

He Apparated outside Twilfitt and Tattings. Dean unceremoniously flung open the door and walked to the front of the store. Some of the elite patrons frowned at his clothes, but Dean didn't give a single fuck because he only had eyes for one person. Blaise was conversing with someone at the counter, a woman about their age he probably would have recognized if he cared.

Dean grabbed Blaise by the shoulders, spun him around, and kissed him. It took Blaise all of half a second to recognize it was Dean and kiss him back and it was … messy. It took them a few moments to get into a rhythm but Blaise's lips were just as soft as Dean imagined they would be. Blaise pulled Dean closer by the sweater collar and snuck his hands under the coat to wrap his fingers around Dean's ribcage.

Dean broke away and said, "You were right. Family is about sacrifices and I will sacrifice everything to make this work."

Then he was kissing Blaise again, but it was chaste and patient. Snogging Blaise like this was something he could get lost in and never come up for air. Eventually the young woman next to them cleared her throat and Blaise pulled away, keeping hold of Dean's waist.

"I told you this one would work," she said. Blaise licked his lips and nodded.

"Meet me at the shop next Wednesday, four o'clock for our second date," Dean begged.

"Are you certain?" Blaise asked. "Do not misunderstand, I appreciate the whole coming after me and kissing me, I mean, I really appreciate that …"

 _Holy hell, have I flustered Blaise Zabini?!_

"… but it doesn't change what you said last night. All of those things are still true and I do not want you to look at me and think of everything you are missing out on."

"The only thing I would miss is you. And kissing you and trying to impress you."

"Well you can do all of that any time you want, Dean Thomas," Blaise smiled. So Dean gave him another quick kiss before hauling his arse out of Twilfitt and Tattings.

"Sorry, I'm late for work!" he shouted over his shoulder. "Wednesday! Four o'clock!"

 _Yes_ , Dean thought as he Disapparated. _Blaise is the right choice. There shouldn't be a choice, but there is and the answer is Blaise. Ava and Kinsley can make their own decisions about this, and I'll pay for their education regardless because they deserve it. But I deserve this, too._


	4. Chapter 4: Finally

_A/N: This is kind of sappy and basically a rough draft, but I hope this fic has made you smile. If you want to see the continuation of Blaise/Dean's relationship, it continues in "Are You My Mother?"_

* * *

If Draco taught Blaise anything, it was that allowing yourself to feel immensely happy also leaves you open to pain.

And, Merlin, it hurt. Blaise wanted to tell Dean to choose him, but that wouldn't be fair. Dean made his choice and it was the right one. Blaise refused to come between someone and their family. This one hurt more than Draco ever did because Blaise believed Dean could give him the sort of love and comfort that Romilda, Draco, and Narcissa never could. Dean could give him the chance to start his own family, the chance to do it better than his mother had.

But Dean chose him! Of course, Blaise had to politely remind his customers that "this thing between me and Dean is very new and not to be shared." Meaning should they find themselves outed in _WQ_ or _WW_ that Blaise would track down the source for a very unpleasant conversation. None of his clientele were so thick-headed.

Blaise didn't think he could wait six days for their second date. He'd finally gotten to touch Dean and it was glorious, every damn cliché Romilda had ever spoken about. Blaise was really lost for a few moments, angry that it was fabric beneath his fingers and not skin. Who knew whether they could even make it six more days before something new took Dean away from him? Part of him wanted Dean to walk around with a sign that read, "Property of Blaise Zabini—Do Not Touch!"

 _Which he would never do because he likes to hug_ everyone _._

By the time Tuesday evening rolled around, Blaise was standing in his closet, perplexed.

"Romi, I have no idea what to wear!" he complained. Romilda laughed and said,

"Nothing formal. This is very, very casual."

"We are meeting up with some of his Muggle mates, and that is all I know! How the hell do I dress for that?"

"Ginny told me what you're doing," Romilda said as she rustled through Blaise's closet and threw a pair of jeans at him. "And it is supposed to be a surprise."

Blaise groaned.

"Can you at least make sure I do not look too …"

"Posh?"

"Gay," Blaise answered.

Romilda shot him that look, the one which said, " _That was so stupid I'm not going to waste my words replying to it."_

"If his family is so upset by it, how will his friends react? I think it would be best to not throw it in their faces, tone it down a bit. I told Dean I could do that."

"Did Dean ask you to do that?"

"Well, no," Blaise answered. "But—"

"You don't think they will realize you're gay when Dean introduces you as his boyfriend?" Romilda pointed out. "That was a stupid thing to say and you should never repeat it."

"Romi," Blaise said quietly, "I do not want to scare him off. He had no reason to come back to me, had every reason not to, and yet … I feel like if I push him too much, too far too quickly that he will regret his decision. So how do I … How does this work? How do most people do this?"

Romilda dumped a blue hoodie and black denim jacket onto Blaise's bed and sighed.

"You either work or you don't," she said. "You can't change who you are, Blaise, you can't make yourself less gay. And you should never apologize for being open about it, either. The only things you can do in a relationship are change how you react to things and change what you prioritize. What's important to Dean should be important to you now, but if that doesn't align with who you are then it doesn't work. If he isn't willing to prioritize what is important to you, let him go."

"But I want to make it work!" Blaise insisted.

"You can't make anyone do anything," Romilda replied. "But Dean likes you. It will work because both of you want it to, and you complement each other, yeah? You are honest and open and willing to do what the other one needs. Sometimes even with all that, it just does not last. And I think you won't have that problem with Dean because the two of you want the same thing."

"What's that?"

"A family of your own," Romilda shrugged.

 **.oOo.**

Dean walked out of his shop at exactly four o'clock and Blaise pulled him down by the collar to kiss him. (That was definitely going to be a thing.) When they broke apart he insisted,

"Do not ever make me wait six days to do that again."

"So demanding," Dean chided with a smile.

"That better be Blaise, otherwise you have a lot of explaining to do, big brother," someone said. Next thing Blaise knew, a girl around twenty or so was wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling him close.

"Your sister, I presume?" Blaise asked Dean. He nodded so Blaise asked, "Are you all huggers? Is this a family thing?"

"Yes," Dean answered, just as his sister said "Yeah."

"Okay," Blaise smiled. "I will have to get used to that."

"Yeah," she answered and held out her hand. "Ava."

"Blaise Zabini," he replied, shaking her hand.

Ava looked a bit like her brother, they had the same tight, dark curls, but that was where the concrete physical similarities ended. She smiled like Dean, the one that sort of starts from the centre of their lips and works its way outward. Ava was much shorter than her brother, but she hugged with just as much fervor.

"Meeting the family on the second date?" Blaise teased. "You planning to be down on one knee by the end of the month?"

"Impatient, aren't you?" Dean smiled back and wrapped an arm around Blaise's shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world. Blaise leaned into Dean's side and they started walking to a nearby university. "Ava's here to be your commentator."

"Commentator?" Blaise said.

"Do you know anything about football?" Ava asked him. Blaise shook his head and she said, "Right. So someone will have to explain what's happening. That's me!"

"Then what will you be doing?" Blaise asked Dean.

"You'll see," Dean replied. Ava chuckled at that and Dean was very, very confused.

They arrived at the university sports centre and Dean departed with a quick kiss to Blaise's cheek. Ava led him through a door and onto some kind of sports court. Blaise had never seen anything like it. It was pretty much a blank pitch but instead of three hoops on either side there was some sort of net.

"You look confused already," Ava said.

"Very," Blaise replied.

They walked over to a small set of stands positioned on the wall at what Ava called the "midfield line." There was a group of four young women already there, and Blaise was starting to piece things together. They greeted Ava like this was a well-established tradition, and Ava introduced Blaise as "my brother's boyfriend."

Blaise held his breath, bracing for something unpleasant but was greeted with smiles and bombarded with questions. He was so fucking relieved because these were questions he could answer.

"What's your name?"

"When did you two meet?"

"What do you do?"

"Dean's never brought a boyfriend to a game before! You must be special."

Blaise's heart definitely did a little pitter-patter at that last one. The notion that he was special, that Dean was already venturing into something he'd never done, made Blaise think that maybe Dean was as excited about this relationship as he was. They huddled around him as he answered their questions.

"I was in his shop one day and he shooed away his employee to walk me around the store."

"I can see why," one of them said, "you're gorgeous as hell."

"Right?!" another one agreed.

"Thank you, that is a very kind observation. I asked him out to Valentine's and now we are here for our second date," Blaise said.

"How much do you know about football?" the blonde one asked.

"Nothing," Ava answered for him. Blaise nodded in agreement.

"We'll teach you," the blonde one (Chelsea, he would later learn) said as more people came to sit in the stands.

They spent the next few minutes talking about clothes and Blaise's business, and he ducked all the questions too close to anything magical. Dean eventually came onto the court with eleven other men, one of whom held a black-and-white ball. Dean greeted some of the other players, and Blaise realized that's what he was: a player. He was going to watch Dean play football with his friends.

Dean was trying to integrate Blaise into his life and Blaise wanted to be there. He would learn football for Dean.

"Don't look so gutted," Chelsea said with a sly smile. The referee tossed a coin in the air and pointed to Dean's team when it landed. "I think you are about to like this game much more than you thought you would." All the players looked over at Blaise with devilish smiles, and Dean's face had a definite red tint to it. They split up to take their sides of the field and Blaise turned to ask,

"What do you mean?"

"Dean got skins," Chelsea answered. Ava groaned and the rest of the girls nodded to the pitch. Blaise turned to look as Dean pulled his t-shirt over his head.

"Merlin's fucking pants!" Blaise shouted. Everyone laughed and Dean had the nerve to wink at him. Blaise leaned forward, placed his elbows on his knees, and scrubbed his face with his fingertips. His eyes were glued to Dean's abs, and Blaise found himself once again resisting the urge to run up and touch. Blaise had hardly realized before just how slim Dean was, but all his muscles were toned. Hell, Blaise had never even seen his arms! Dean Thomas was fit, and Blaise shrugged off his jacket to place it over his lap to conceal a growing problem.

 _If he'd come home with me after our first date, we would still be shagging. I won't let him leave the bed for at least a week._

If the girls noticed, they didn't say anything. The match began and everyone appeared to be chasing the one ball.

"It's football," Ava said, "exactly what it sounds like. You kick the ball with your feet and you can use any part of your body except your hands. The net at either end? Kick the ball in and that's a point. The man in front of it? That's the goalie and his job is to keep the ball out. Now, this is six-a-side, so it's a wee bit different from normal football. Goalies can't kick the ball, they have to toss it to a player."

And so it went. The girls would chime in every once in awhile; it seemed each of them was dating (or married to) someone in the match. Blaise had to pull his eyes away from Dean after his team scored first.

"They just do this? Dean will run around chasing after the ball for ninety minutes?"

"Yes," one of the girls answered.

"You were right," Blaise admitted, "this is a great game."

They all laughed and Blaise decided to use the lightened mood to his advantage.

"If I may ask, why did you tell your mother about me?"

Ava sighed.

"I thought it was alright now. Dean never really kept it a secret; we all knew about Seamus for awhile before he told us. Mum doesn't care, not really. My father, though, he … Well, you have to understand Dean is six years older than me. From the time he went to Hogwarts, mum and dad were just starting to really have trouble taking care of the kids. There were three of us then, plus Dean.

"Dad never thought of Dean as his child, so Dean's always been more like a caregiver to us than a sibling."

"That must kill him," Blaise observed.

"He likes it," Ava said. "You know, he just likes to help people. He's paying for me to go to school and he's saved up enough for Kinsley, too."

"But Dean cannot visit the rest of you, can he? Not now that I am … in the picture."

"Fuck that," Ava said. "You know, Dean is the best—OI! SIN BIN! WHERE IS THE BLOODY YELLOW CARD, REF?! SEND HIM TO THE SIN BIN YOU COWARD!—Anyway, Dean is the best big brother anyone could ask for. This," she pointed to the game going on in front of them, "this is the only time Dean takes for himself. Everything else is working, coming home to check on the kids, and that sort of thing."

"Coming home to check on the kids?" Blaise asked.

"Mum works days and dad works night shifts at a bank. Dean is the equalizer, of sorts. My youngest sister is seven and Dean has been a surrogate parent for her entire life. The twins are ten and Dean's been taking care of them since he graduated. Lou just turned thirteen, Leilani is fifteen, and Kinsley is seventeen. It's hard to make ends meet for seven kids, you know, and Dean wants the best life for all of us. Dad can try to make him stay away, but I give it a year at most. They've never had to handle all of us by themselves."

"You really think that?" Blaise asked.

"Yeah, I do," Ava said. "And even if they don't, even if Dean has to live a life away from mum and dad, none of us will force him away. And even if we did, he'd find a way to pay for school because that is the sort of person he is. I'm just happy he finally decided to do what he wanted for once. God knows he deserves it."

The game reached half-time then and the players made their way to a table filled with water bottles. A bit escaped out the corner of Dean's mouth as he drank and the sight was nothing short of obscene. Blaise shifted awkwardly in his seat, trying to think of anything to alleviate the problem happening in his pants.

Dean walked over toward the stands and Blaise stood up when he was about five metres away. Blaise demanded,

"No, you stay right there!"

"Why?" Dean asked.

"Because you're shirtless and sweaty and how the hell did you not tell me you look like that?!"

"Well, it's hard to work it into first date conversation," Dean joked.

"Okay, just, stay very far away unless you want me to shag you right here in front of everyone."

That remark turned some heads, but Dean just laughed.

"You have no self-control, Blaise Zabini."

"Not for you," Blaise replied. "Now go run around some more. It's sexy."

"Well, in that case, I might even score a goal for you," Dean teased as he ran away.

Blaise turned around to face everyone and said, "I am going to marry him." Then he sat in the front row of the stands and watched the match resume.

"You really think so?" Ava asked.

"I do," Blaise confirmed.

"I'm sorry it's hard for you to be with him," she said. "I wish it was easier. I want him to be happy and he hasn't shut up about you. The other men he dates, well, they don't really merit a lot of conversation. Dad said some nasty things to him after Seamus and it hurt him pretty deep. In five years there might have been two that lasted more than a month. But he was dating them more because he thought he should pursue a real relationship, not because he wanted to."

"So what does that make me?" Blaise asked, slightly afraid of the answer.

"It makes you the best hope to make him happy," Ava said. Blaise leaned over and hugged her.

"Thank you," he said.

"See, you're even hugging, now. You'll be part of the family in no time."

"I—"

Blaise was cut off as a loud cheer erupted from Dean's teammates. He had scored a goal and they were up 2-1 with ten minutes to play.

 **.oOo.**

Dean insisted on taking a shower after the match.

"But why?" Blaise whined.

"Because I'm sweaty and disgusting!"

"Sweaty, yes, disgusting, no," Blaise replied. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Five minutes and I'll be ready to leave."

Ava left for school and several of Dean's mates came over to introduce themselves. They were nice blokes, some of them very good-looking, and Blaise could identify most of them by their girlfriends. All of them said essentially the same thing: hurting Dean would be the worst mistake of Blaise's life. Some of them threatened him, others just warned him how important he had to be for Dean to bring him here at all.

Dean returned with wet hair and Blaise pouted once he saw Dean was wearing the t-shirt. He half-dragged Dean out of the sports centre and into a back alley.

"Are you comfortable with Sidealong?"

Dean nodded and before he could say anything they were standing in the entryway to Blaise's flat. Blaise tossed his coat onto a small table and began to unbutton Dean's coat.

"Impatient?" Dean asked.

"You have no idea," Blaise growled. "I just spent ninety minutes watching you run around, shirtless, sweating, panting like you had been fucked within an inch of your life. I have been half-hard for two hours, and I swear on Merlin's grave if you are not in my bed in five minutes I may lose my bloody mind!"

Dean smiled and that only made things worse. Blaise groaned and Dean said,

"My friends like you. They think you're positively besotted."

"They are not wrong," Blaise said. He slid Dean's coat from his shoulders and dragged Dean toward the bedroom by the hem of his t-shirt.

"Ava likes you a lot," Dean continued. "She says I am good for you, but I think she has it the wrong way 'round."

"Dean!" Blaise shouted, dragging him into the bedroom. Blaise pushed him onto the bed and said, "Stop fucking talking or I will shove my dick down your throat just to make you shut up!"

Dean tilted his head to the side and said, "Promise?"

Blaise couldn't help but laugh.

"God, you are so perfect. I cannot believe you have been in London this entire time! I could have had this years ago! I have been wasting my time with other men who … who …"

"Who what?" Dean asked.

 _Other men who don't look at me the way you do. Other men who only saw my money or my notoriety. Other men who wanted to have the man who fucked a Malfoy._

Blaise answered him with a kiss. He situated himself between Dean's open legs, exactly where he wanted to be. He also wanted to keep Dean's focus away from his surroundings because, for the first time, Blaise was embarrassed. There was nothing personal about his bedroom, nothing home-like about his whole flat. It was a space to sleep, not really a place to live, and he wanted Dean to want to live here.

Blaise broke off their kiss to pull Dean's shirt over his head. He stared at Dean's abs for a moment, awestruck, then looked up to see Dean staring at him, laughing.

"Blaise, look at you, looking at me like I'm the best thing to ever happen to you," Dean smiled. Was he blushing? Yes, Dean was blushing. So Blaise gave him the honest answer.

"You are."


End file.
